


Think Positive

by Kheetor84



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mental Health Issues, Post-Episode: 2007 Xmas Voyage of the Damned, Science Fiction, Telepathy, The Doctor hates hospitals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-08-20 13:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16556924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kheetor84/pseuds/Kheetor84
Summary: Soon after the disaster of the space cruiser Titanic and having some solo adventures, the TARDIS pilots herself against the Doctor's wishes for a bit of a break of adventuring. When he lands, it is the last place that he wanted to be, at a hospital. What is more worst than a hospital for the Doctor? Or more importantly, why did the TARDIS pick this facility? The mystery seems to center around a young woman who is visiting there for her ill older brother. Yet he only talks of aliens and government conspiracies and the staff is in on it.What is real and what is fantasy?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Doctor Who fanfiction that I am putting up onto the internet but I've had this story in my head, and on Open Office for YEARS. I've just now had the GUTS to try to put it up. It is not a shipping fic, it is a rare fanfiction with action and I wanted to write this fanfiction because of the rarity of Doctor Who adventuring. It is going to be a part of a series but I want to see what the response is.
> 
> BTW, I am finding beta help but if things will look, well, rusty, just give me time.
> 
> Thank you and be kind.

**Think Positive**

by Kheetor84

(Thank you to [Miss-Alex-Aphey](https://www.deviantart.com/miss-alex-aphey/art/Think-positive-Titan-comics-edit-536315567) for drawing this commission for the "cover" of this story. Best way to describe my OC is through art!) 

 

* * *

 

The sound of the mallet hitting on the TARDIS rang throughout the console room. "Oh come on!" The Doctor whined as he looked at the console in frustration and scratched. the back of his head with the tool. "You've had indigestion for nearly a week! I've tried to replace parts, I've sung to you, and if I could find a blanket big enough to cover your Time Rotor, I would!"

The TARDIS lights dimmed with a sad hum. Ever since the disaster on the luxury space cruiser Titanic, she had been feeling slightly guilty about putting her pilot in harm's way. Neither he nor the TARDIS never took death well. She had decided to park on an asteroid where the TARDIS thought the solitude might make him a bit happy. It didn't work. It was the same asteroid where Rose Tyler had bought Bazoolium.  
  
Letting the mallet clang against the metal grating of the floor the Doctor looked exhausted by the fighting. "Fine, fine! I get it that you want to make me feel better." He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "How 'bout you use the randomizer, eh? But if you're in the mood... Maybe Dublin? Just avoid the Vikings and Black Death, though. Maybe help them plant some potatoes. Gardening can be calming, right?" He hated having to bargain with his time ship but hey, he'd some idea when he stole the TARDIS that it had been decommissioned for a reason. He just hadn't guessed that it would be its random mood swings.  
  
The time rotor started to come to life and the ship lurched violently making The Doctor almost flip over the railing. "Oi, now!" He yelled as he held onto the railing with one hand and extended his long lanky body to see the reading from the console. The sound of the TARDIS landing with a hard "THUD" on an unknown surface echoed within the console room. The Doctor was finally able to stand up straight.  
  
"Good," he said with a nod. Going down the gangplank and collecting his trench coat, The Doctor opened up the TARDIS doors. "Well bugga."

 

 

* * *

 

"Yes Mom, I made it to Dublin just fine. Yes, I was able to understand the directions on the Garmin perfectly," said a short girl whose long brunette hair covered the cell phone that was glued to her head. The sound of well-worn tennis shoes squeaked against the floor quite loudly. "I remembered his magazines. Yes, even the fishing ones." The girl's eyes rolled back dramatically. "Yes, I promise to stay at least thirty minutes with him. You know how I feel about hospitals, Mama." She only used 'Mama' when she needed to get her point across. The girl passed nurses walking between patients rooms and she could see her destination. "Mom, I 've got to go. I'm at the ward. Yes, I love you too." Her eyes squinted in annoyance because her Mom would try as long as possible to prolong the end of the call. "Mom, I'm at the nurse's desk. Love ya, bye! Kiss, kiss!"  
  


Sighing as she ended the call and quickly put the phone in the knapsack she brought everywhere with her; she walked up to a rather tall nurse's desk. "Excuse me," her soft mousy voice called to the receptionist who could barely be seen because of the height of the L-shaped table.  
  


A man in baby blue scrubs got out his chair and looked over to see who was excusing him. He saw a young woman with long brown hair and big brown eyes looking up at him. "Yeah?" He asked gruffly.  
  


"I'm Rebecca Knox," the young woman introduced herself as she adjusted the knapsack's strap across her chest. The sound of rubbing leather squeaked from her black and gray letterman's jacket as she moved. "I'm here to see my brother, Michael Jason Blake. His number is 5983 I think."  
  


"You think?" The male nurse looked down to his computer and entered the information. "He just came back from group therapy. You're the only family visitin'?"  
  


"Yes." She nodded. "Just me."  
  


After signing her name on the visitors' log presented to her by the nurse, she did a perfect about-face from the nurse's station to head to the familiar hallway where her brother was staying. The faster she spent her time with her brother, keeping the chatting to a minimum (which wasn't a problem for the both of them), and called their Mom to confirm that the two were in the same space, the sooner she could leave this dreadful place. It wasn't that she didn't care for or love her brother, she did, but after the sudden call from her Mam-Maw from Mississippi about her Pap-Paw's dementia getting worse, Rebecca's parents put her in charge of visiting Michael while they drove to her grandparents' house across the country. Visiting her brother was more of her Mom's thing.  
  


"Probably see that he's just not sleepin' right and come back home," she dreadfully sighed as she continued down the hall, trying not to peer into patient's rooms as she heard various moans or groans or even some shouts from them. She couldn't help but wince at the sounds. Knocking exactly four times on Mike's door she called out to him. She more than knew better than to bust inside of a paranoid schizophrenic's room. "Mikey?" She called out again before stepping into the sterile hospital room. She couldn't shake the eerie feeling of seeing the mute blue walls with the massive hospital bed in the middle.  
  


"Mom?" Mike's voice echoed in the room before his face fell when he saw his little sister. His body swayed slightly but he seemed to be keeping himself straight by holding onto each of the top rails.  
  


"Nah, just me. Becca." Rebecca responded. She was standing firmly next to the sink as she looked him over. She could easily see that his normally blue eyes were dilated. Goosebumps rose on her arms - thank God for her jacket to hide them - as she evaluated her brother.  
  


"I brought gifts," she coughed and lifted the two grey Wal-Mart bags for Mike to see. "Two changes of clothes, your fishing magazines, a few Sudoku puzzles, and your favorite toothpaste and mouthwash." She took a few steps forward to put the bags in between her brother's feet. "Non-alcoholic, of course."  
  


"They're here, you know. Listenin' in." Mike held onto one of the rails so he could reach for the bags with his long arm. "More than ever. They are hearing us from these walls, Becca."  
  


_‘Don't roll your eyes,'_ Rebecca reminded herself. One of the things that she and her parents have had to learn to be around him without setting him off. "Who? CIA? FBI?"  
  


Mike was going through each bag with a strange calmness, looking over every item frontward and backward, until he was satisfied to place them neatly on the mobile hospital desk/tray next to him. "Aliens. They're workin' for the aliens."  
  


"The U.S. Government works with aliens?" Rebecca inquired with a quirked eyebrow. He's never talked about aliens before.  
  


"Yeah. Dad works with them." Mike nodded with his head slightly bobbing as he opened his magazine. "Your parents put me in here because I know."  
  


And here we go. Her nostrils huffed when she knew when Mike was going into "schizo talk". "They're our parents, Mikey."  
  


"Don't call me that."  
  


"Sorry." She held her hands up to pacify him, but she couldn't help defending her father. "But they're your parents too. And just because Dad works with the D.O.D. doesn't mean he works with aliens."  
  


The travel-size bottle of mouthwash banged against the tray. "It's true!" Mikey screamed, his eyes were suddenly blood-shot and his mouth had morphed into a snarl. "They're here in this hospital! The government snuck them in and now they want us! I've seen them in my dreams!"  
  


Rebecca pressed her back against the wall but looked down outside of the room to see a tall female nurse rushing in, along with a big burly black guy that looked like a bouncer in an orderly's uniform, surrounding her brother's bed. She had never seen her brother going on full adrenaline in years as he fought the orderly.  
  


"Miss, out now!" Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room. It was another nurse. Rebecca shook as she heard the sounds of the scuffle coming from the room. She froze when she heard a clear smack of someone or something getting hit, more sounds of the two hospital employees, and then silence.  
  


"Wha... What happened to him?" she managed to ask the nurse, finally looking at the woman, seeing the name tag "Nurse Dashell, Charge Nurse" dangling from her uniform.  
  


Nurse Dashell, a short Asian woman with a spiky pixie haircut, looked solemn. "He wasn't ready for visitors yet. I'll have words with the desk nurse about that. I just happened to be looking at the room cameras when I saw your brother start screaming at you." She shook her head, irritated. "Your brother is one of our hardest cases when it comes to complying with counseling and something must've struck a nerve." She assured Rebecca with a gloved hand on her arm. "He's just been sedated. He was talking all sorts of things in the session and I was about to check on him... I am so sorry."  
  


"It's not your fault. It's the illness," Rebecca replied almost automatically. It was something that her family was used to saying when family and friends interacted with her brother.  
  


"Yes. And being in the Marine Corps doesn't help it. War does horrible things to good people," Nurse Dashell said before looking to see the tall female nurse and the bouncer-orderly come out of Mike's room. Rebecca gasped as she saw that the burly orderly was sporting a bloody nose. His nostrils were bashed in. "Nurse Joyce, help Jermaine and I'll be with you for a full report." Nurse Dashell stared at the two before turning her attention to the on-looker. "Miss, I have to ask you to leave the ward so we can get to the bottom of this. I'm sorry. There's a cafeteria outside of the ward to the right."  
  


"I... I'm sorry." Rebecca looked over to Orderly Jermaine. She was trying to see through the tears that were trying to cloud over her eyes. She thanked the charge nurse, slinging her knapsack close to her body, and nearly ran out of the ward in sheer panic.

 

 

* * *

  
"Not bad, not bad. A shop!" exclaimed the Doctor as he excitedly popped himself into the small gift shop on what seemed to be the main floor of the building the TARDIS had landed on. The trinkets were what you expect in a hospital - get well cards, plushies, balloons, candles - but what caught his attention were signs or mugs with "Get well our veterans" or "Honor our veterans". American flags, big and small, decorated every corner of the shop.  
  
"Uh, excuse me," he said, looking over to the cashier, a white-haired older woman with a candy-striper uniform on. "This may sound odd but which veterans are we honoring?"  
  
"All of them, of course," the woman answered slowly, taken off-guard. "My, I don't think we've had an Englishman here but we treat veterans as far back as the Second World War to the poor souls coming back from the Middle East."  
  
"Middle East? Oh, right, right." The Doctor put his hands in his trench coat pockets. His eyes glanced around for anything that would give him a clue of his whereabouts. He was getting nowhere. "Well then, good day to you and, quaint little American shop. Just needs to look a bit more cheerful, is all. Sick people know they need to get well. Imagine gifts saying that they're going to be 'Fantastic!' rather than "Get Well Soon". That word does wonders." He flashed a smile before exiting.  
  
Out in the main lobby area, he watched the hustle and bustle of the families and medical staff going in and out. "Everything looks right. Dreadful." Nothing out of the ordinary was popping out for him. "Oh, cafeteria!" His saw the sign on the wall and followed the arrow down a hallway. He hadn't eaten since stopping the Granxix from taking over Hotel Historia while in the early 41st century. Speeding along, he could smell that lunch was being made and saw that the queue had already started.  
  
"No Mom," a small woman in front of him sighed into her smartphone. "I didn't say anything that would've triggered him. Mike just went off on his own." She paused as she picked up a soda from the line but no food. "He just went on about how the government is listenin' in and aliens and stuff. The usual for him."  
  
Ears perked up as the Doctor listened to what the young lady was saying while perusing the display case with banana muffins inside. Staying a few steps away, he saw the woman buy her drink and walk off to a small table on the opposite side of the cafeteria.  
  
Rebecca wrestled her bag off her shoulder, thumping it on the table. "Mom, they said it was too soon for visitors. That nurse at the station wasn't informed or somethin'. Or didn't care. But I'm not leaving till I know that Mike is okay, okay? Please just... Let me do this. You don't have to rush home because he was triggered. Take care of Pap-Paw. You've got enough on your plate as is." Rebecca finally smiled as she heard her Mom relent. "Okay, I love you too. Tell Dad that I love him too." She clicked her phone off. Opening her soda in one hand while browsing through her Facebook with the other, she was just glad to gather her nerves after the whole encounter. The sooner she could leave, the better. "I just don't like hospitals."  
  
"Neither do I." A male voice agreed behind her. Slowly turning around, she saw a tall, gangly man in a brown suit sitting at the next table, looking out the large pane-glass window. "New Year's Eve in 1999 probably my worst experience in a hospital to date."  
  
The way he talked threw Rebecca off for a moment but it excited her. "London?"  
  
He looked over and gave a big smile, getting up while grabbing a long trench coat from the back of the chair. "That's right, oh Londoner me. Good on you to figure out that. Not many Americans can pinpoint on just a few sentences."  
  
"Yeah, watched too many BBC shows growing up," Rebecca nodded slowly. She was not used to having strange men walk up on her in public. "Yeah, cockney, right?"  
  
"Straight from the Powell Estates me," he chuckled, shuffling through his vest pocket and pulling out a black wallet. "Doctor John Smith, from Cambridge University." He flipped out his credentials at the woman for a moment before flipping it back into his vest.  
  
Squinting her eyes up at him with a bit of uncertainty, "Rebecca Knox, from Byron - here in Georgia. It's about two hours from right here."  
  
"And, just so that my GPS got it right, where is here?" The man asked inquisitively.  
  
"Dublin, Georgia?" The weirdo factor just up tenfold, Rebecca thought.  
  
"Georgia? Dublin, Georgia? **REALLY**?" The Doctor grumbled to himself as he put his trench coat on. At least the TARDIS had gotten one thing right, but she'd missed the century and the country. Just like her to pull something like this. "Well then, Miss Knox, since you're a native here, I would like to see and hear anything about this hospital. It's history and what-not."  
  
"What for?" Rebecca grabbed her bag and seemed to mirror the man's motions to get ready to go somewhere. "It's a veterans hospital. Simple as that."  
  
"Simple as that? No, no, no. I mean, the history of the people. The patients. You're here, you must have someone."  
  
Rebecca shrugged. "My big brother. He's been admitted here for over four months because of his..." She looked away in a bit of shame. "Schizophrenia."  
  
"So where is he at? Where's his ward?" The Doctor started walking towards the signs that directed to different patient hallways.  
  
"Wait, wait!" Rebecca's short legs shuffled up to him, grabbing onto the Doctor's arm. "Why you wanna know? He's knocked out anyway so you can't talk to him. He wouldn't talk anyway, he doesn't know you."  
  
"Oh, I don't need him to talk at all to get information." The Doctor glanced down annoyingly. "So, where is your brother? Schizophrenia so that means psych ward, right?"  
  
Releasing the Doctor's arm, Rebecca crossed her arms defiantly. "You're not from Cambridge, are you? Why would somebody from Britain want anything to do with this hospital? Y'all don't care about US history."  
  
"One, no, I am not from Cambridge or even Britain, two, I DO care about American history very much. All of Earth's history, backward, forwards, and presently in fact," he said with a smile. "However, Miss Knox I am interested in this hospital and why I was sent here and your conversation at the lunch line piqued my interest." He leaned down to look at her at eye-level. "Especially when it comes to aliens."  
  


 

 

* * *

  
"There you are, Jermaine," Nurse Joyce dabbed a wet gash on the swollen nose of the burly orderly nurse. The two staff members were in a small medical supply closet that was dimly lit. "Surprised he got the upper hand on you, as much Clozapine that I gave him after he came back. It was enough to keep him down till his evening appointment."  
  
Hissing at the antiseptic burning into his bruised face, Jermaine kept his head held back with two thick bits of tissue up his nostrils. "It's not enough as fast as he got up, damn. His file said he was a Marine, ya? What is the slogan? "Once a Marine, always a Marine", they're certainly don't forget combat muscle memory."  
  
"Yes, but the more damaged the better, Jermaine. The goods have done as well," she said, pulling the latex gloves off her small hands and disposing of them. "And with the uppers and downers that we are giving him and the other patients, their minds will fester even more and they won't be able to leave. Which is what the boss wants. The credits don't lie."  
  
"Credits don't lie but why couldn't we have gotten a bigger score at that Reed hospital? They're more damaged and if they die, nobody would be surprised."  
  
Rolling her eyes as she pressed the little nursing pin on her ID badge, the appearance of the small Asian woman disappeared and in its place, a pitch-black scaly skin with golden-colored reptilian eyes stared up at her comrade. "Security you nitwit. The boss said it's easier to get what's important in these places where the humans dump the shriveled up husks of their elders, and the more remote the better. Their memories are going to make us rich."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soon after the disaster of the space cruiser Titanic and having some solo adventures, the TARDIS pilots herself against the Doctor's wishes for a bit of a break of adventuring. When he lands, it is the last place that he wanted to be, at a hospital. What is more worst than a hospital for the Doctor? Or more importantly, why did the TARDIS pick this facility? The mystery seems to surround a young woman who is visiting the same hospital to stay with her brother. Yet he only thinks of aliens and government conspiracies and the staff is in on it.
> 
> What is real and what is fantasy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay! I know, I know I said it was for NaNoWriMo and stuff but... Ov vey, writer's block over a PARAGRAPH and it was just two days ago that I went onto a Fanfiction Writing Discord server, asked about this problem, and in under two minutes... "WHOA!" Geez, two months of delay and just. Well, here we are! I hope ya'll remember me! Remember to comment or kudos or whatever but ALWAYS, be kind.

“Aliens? Really? How?” The preposterous question coming from this lamp-pole thin man wearing a pin-striped suit. Just as Rebecca was going to tell him off, something within the guy's question made her think. “You're serious.”  
  
“Why would I not be? It would answer the question of why my ship brings me to a bloody hospital on Earth if it wasn't aliens.” The Doctor ran his hand through his hair, clearly getting flustered of the standing around.  
  
“Ship?” She repeated with eyes narrowed.  If he's nuts, I know where to get an orderly at least.  “Okay, this way but I have questions.” Starting down the hallway opposite of where the man was headed down.  
  
It took a few minutes before they were rounding the corner where the nurse's station was at the Psych Ward. “Dangit,” Rebecca cursed. “That guy is still here.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Nurse at the desk.” She pointed to the dismissive male nurse who was chowing down on some kind of takeout behind the counter. “He's already seen me and has probably been told that Mike can't have visitors.”  
  
“Well, that is very solvable.” The Doctor grinned and pulled out the psychic paper from his pocket.  
  
“That? How?” Rebecca looked skeptical.  
  
“How? Well, this worked on you about who I was, dinn'it?” He asked with an inquisitive raise of his eyebrow.  
  
“Hate to break it to you but there was nothing on it.” Rebecca shook her head. “And really, 'John Smith'? Not inventive if you were goin' to prowl around in a place like this.”  
  
Looking puzzled, the Doctor looked over his paper a few times. “Must be on the fritz.” Putting it up, he stretched his neck out to take in the layout of the station. Two nurses were chatting between in an alcove between a set of hospital rooms, the nurse Rebecca mentioned was solely focused on his food, and coming from the other side was a nurse had both hands occupied by two IV poles with bulky blocky pumps attached to them.  
  
“God I hate those.” Rebecca's face grimaced once she saw where he was looking. “Mom nearly dropped kicked one of those because the nurse wasn't fast enough to fix the IV line.”  
  
“Why? What did it ever to do to her?”  
  
“They're noisy. The second no liquids are going through the pumps and it screams loud enough to wake the dead,” replied Rebecca.  
  
“Noisy? Annoying? Perfect.” Rebecca watched as the man pulled something from his jacket pocket. Some kind of device with a blue light blinking on. “You might want to cover your ears for this.”  
  
A whirring sound came and before Rebecca could react, the two IV pumps started blaring out like being next to an ambulance with its sirens piercing the air. All of the nurses turned to the poles, holding their ears, and were shouting over each other as they raced to try to turn them off. Seeing their chance, Rebecca darted down the hallway as fast as she could get away from the sounds. Her mother wasn't the only one who was triggered by the IV pumps' sounds.  
  
“Come on, in here!” She called out, holding the door for the man. After making sure the coast was clear and the sounds were still blaring, she closed the heavy door, she turned to him. “What the hell was that?!”  
  
“My sonic screwdriver.” The Doctor kissed the blue light end before putting it up.  
  
“And it can do that? Is it government-made? Or... alien-made?” She couldn't help but have her curiosity peaked.  
  
“Alien-made by this alien, it is.”  
  
“ _Alien_ -alien? From another planet, alien?” Rebecca sat down in the empty chair by her unconscious's brother's bedside.  
  
The Doctor walked to the other side of the bed, gingerly putting his thumb over Mike's eyelid to open it. The pupils were stark black. “Do you believe in beings from another planet?” He asked quietly.  
  
“Of course,” Rebecca answered instantly. “Be stupid to think that only one planet in the entire universe houses the only intelligent life in it.”  
  
Looking over at the small woman, the Doctor was intrigued for a moment. “But it sounded mad coming from your brother?”  
  
Sighing heavily, Rebecca slumped in the chair. “Doctors told us back when Mike was diagnosed that the delusions and paranoia could excel. There's been, personal incidents, where Mike was making accusations about Dad and his job and thinking horrible things. So after Mike slashed our stereo speakers apart because he thought Dad was told by the government to put listening devices in, we had to admit him.” She paused. “The whole 'hearing aliens' thing happened just after he came so we just accepted it.”  
  
Taking a chair on his side, the Doctor sat down. “He'll be out for a while.” Going over to check Mike's pulse, he now saw that the man had a set of leather cuffs on his wrists, attached to the railings. Glanced at the bruised knuckles.“Put up a fight, did he?”  
  
“Yeah. Something in him just flipped while we were talkin', a nurse the size of a football lineman came in, and Mike clocked the guy right in the nose.” Rebecca recited the incident. “About the aliens talking to him in his dreams.”  
  
“Dreams, eh?” A thought came across the Doctor's mind. “Alright Miss Knox, there is a way for me to see his dreams but since he's unconscious, I can't get his permission.” He looked over at Rebecca. “So, you're next of kin.”  
  
“One: don't call me 'Miss',” Rebecca sternly shook her head with eyes narrowed. “Two: How? You're like a Vulcan or somethin'?”  
  
“Why do people keep comparing me to Mr. Spock?” The Doctor asked no one with a shake of his head. “But yes, in a sense, I can go into his mind and sift through his memories. Give a clue on what we're dealing with but Time Lord rule of thumb is not without permission first.”  
  
“Time Lord?” she pondered. “But uh, yeah, do what you need to do.”  
  
“I need to hear it, properly.”  
  
“Okay, I give you permission to look into my brother's head.” Rebecca agreed thoroughly. Holding her breath as she watched as the man nodded before leaning forward, putting both of his hands on either side of her brother's face.

 

* * *

  
“Miss Dashell,” A young blonde-haired nurse with Muppet Babies scrubs called out to the head nurse at the station. “Doctor Johnson wants to see you in Room 705.”  
  
“Which Johnson?” Dashell was irritated, her ears were still ringing ten minutes after someone was able to override the IV pumps and switch them off.  
  
“J.J. Johnson.”  
  
Dashell winced but nodded. “Got it, thank you.” She pulled a tote-bag from behind the desk. “Put down I'm going on break.” The nurse understood and went to an available computer at the station.  
  
Didn't take any more than ten minutes to find the wing where the more senior, and permanent, patients were put. Knocking as she let herself in, the room was dimmed with only the overhead light on the back wall over the bed was on. There stood in a white coat but with all black button-up shirt and slacks, sever cropped hair that showed hints of black, and wearing wide horn-rimmed glasses, was Doctor Johnson.  
  
“You were expecting me?” Dashell put her tote-bag in an empty chair.  
  
“Yes, urgently.” Doctor Johnson's monotonous voice answered but he hadn't moved from his position at the end of the bed. His face trained onto the elderly man with intent. “This is George Shirley, Private First Class during World War Two. Corporal during the Korean War and would've fought in Vietnam if it wasn't for getting his leg amputated from diabetes.”  
  
“Yes, and on a respirator.” Dashell shrugged. “What is so urgent?”  
  
“Corporal Shirley is one of the few seniors who are in the total care of the government medical system that fought at the Battle of the Bulge.” Johnson elaborated.  
  
Dashell's head quickly turned to the elderly man with peak interest. A smile cracked the side of her mouth. “Does he have any living relatives?”  
  
“Not any that would care. His only child admitted him five years ago and Jermaine certainly informed me that his male child has passed with no progeny after him.” Johnson answered, slowly starting to remove black leather gloves on he was wearing. “ Corporal Shirley hasn't been informed. I did not want the old soldier to stir up his emotions and memories with any new tragedy.”  
  
Seeing her superior's actions, getting the tote-bag from the chair and produces a compact-like item from it. “He still thinks of the war?”  
  
“Correct. The Bleen mental stimulants act exactly as advertised.” Offering his hand to Dashell. “I need you at the computer while I proceed for his final therapy session. After acquirement, proceed with code protocol.”  
  
“Yes, sir.” Handling over the device, she walked over to the large computer station next to the corner of the room, sliding in her badge through the card reader before her hands breezed through commands she entered. After a moment, a single finger hovered a key. “We may commence.”  
  
“Good.” Removing his glasses, the similar reptilian blackened skin but with the light above showed some blueish highlights within his scales. Plucking two small cellular disks from the case and placing on both sides of George Shirley's temples, and lastly placing the case on the top of his barely rising chest.  
  
The elderly man's barely opened as he heard a familiar voice call to him. “Corporal George Shirley, we are damn glad you survived. Many didn't but dear boy, you need to be debriefed.” The man standing at the end of his bed was no other than his commanding officer in full military dress.“I know speaking will hurt but just think about what you have seen, son. Even the tiniest detail can help us further ourselves in winning this war.”  
  
George Shirley's glazed overlook seem to sharpen as they looked towards his officer's. Brown eyes and gold seem to blend as well as the man in front of him. He seemed to shift in and out like static on a television.  
  
“Just _think_.”

 

 

* * *

  
The Doctor's hands pulled away from Mike's temple slowly, he couldn't help but shudder from certain feelings, still very raw feelings, that came from the man.  
  
“Sir? Are you okay?”  
  
“Sir?” The Doctor shot up suddenly at his full height, looking down at the small woman in the chair. “No one calls me “sir”. My name is the Doctor and Miss Knox, your brother is right. Aliens are haunting this hospital.”  
  
Rebecca darted her eyes to her brother in disbelief. “Does that mean they gave him his schizophrenia?”  
  
“No.” He sighed. “It had been brewing since he was a child, I'm afraid.” Quickly darting to the heavy door, he pulled slightly and took a peak. “You don't have to happen to know the layout of the hospital to say, a patient file room?”  
  
“No, but they usually just look them up at the nurse's station or a portable computer station.” She shrugged with disdain.  
  
“Well then Miss Knox, since there isn't one in here I think we just need to procure our---”  
  
“CODE BLUE. ACTIVE CODE BLUE IN EFFECT.”  
  
Rebecca got up and quickly looked through the opening of the door to see a sudden blur of blue scrubs. Feeling goosebumps on her arms, she urged herself to open the door wider and took a step out. The sudden feel of nausea made her tighten her throat at the loud sounds before her. Her feet felt stuck in place.  
  
“Rebecca?” A loud snap in front of her face made her nausea go away. “Ya alright?” It was the Doctor. The alien. The alien that can somehow help her brother.  
  
“Yeah, yeah. Just... I  _hate_ hospitals.” She nodded. Yet after she answered the door nearly hit her in the face as the Doctor bolted out. “Wait, what are you doing?!”  
  
“Getting a computer!”  
  
Sighing, she walked out to see the mob of nurses and passersby go down to the direction of the emergency. She turned to see the Doctor had already gone behind the nurse's station. “Good idea, be my lookout!” He grinned from over the counter.  
  
“It's the obvious idea unless you Time Lords have eyes behind your heads.” Her eyes rolled over to him with full snark in place.  
  
“No, but never really tried that body feature, to be honest. I would have to be nearly bald to see clearly and I don't think I rock that 'do.” The Doctor shrugged as he quickly moved through firewalls, passcodes, and even adverting cameras from the hall they were in. “By the way, why the name 'Trekkie Becky'?”  
  
Feeling goosebumps from her back to the back of her head, Rebecca's face flushed bright red. “What did you call me?” Fully pressing herself to the counter, eyes narrowed furiously, even on her tippy toes. “No one calls me that!”  
  
“Your brother did.” The Doctor shrugged nonchalantly. “So why the nickname?”  
  
“How does this have anything to do with my brother other than his major way of annoying me?” She hissed at him before taking a look down the hallway. “You better hurry with whatever you're looking for, Doctor.”  
  
“Looking for any doctors and nurses assigned to him in any out of the ordinary scheduling,” he explained. “You said he was in group therapy? Did you ever hear or see whoever presided over the therapy sessions?”  
  
“I don't know. My Mom would know this stuff better than me.”  
  
“Well, what good is that?” He turned away from the monitor. “You don't even know a name? Is there a nurse he fancied?”  
  
“Well,” Her voiced cracked as she tried to jog her memory. “ I know his case doctor was named Jackson, Jones...”  
  
“James Joseph Johnson?”  
  
“Yeah!” Rebecca pounced. “Like “J. J. Abrams!”

 


End file.
